


Decide the Truth

by fineinthemorning



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Persona 5: The Royal, Spoilers, Theories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-30 21:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineinthemorning/pseuds/fineinthemorning
Summary: Dreams can come true, but at what cost?Ren has already decided that the cost is well worth it, but Goro forces him to reconsider.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> //presenting my very gay theories for royal //I broke it up into three chapters and it's all gay //p5royal, gay route, not long, but long enough to get my tragic, gay love story out  
//translation of trailer dialogue by Lettuce Sauce  
//this picks up at the end of Akechi's trailer

Deciding he’d said enough, Goro turned his back on the one person he’d previously thought infallible, “Let’s meet at this place again next week. Though, if you choose to live here in this reality with your friends . . . that’s another story.” It was a thinly veiled threat he knew the leader of the Phantom Thieves would understand the implications of. While this experience had proven to Goro just how human Amamiya Ren was, it was not an ideal one for any of them.

The truth was far more important. 

Declaring the conversation over with his threat, he began to walk away when a desperate grip held him back. He reflexively jerked away, turning suddenly at the ready to attack only to see Ren put his hands up defensively and take a step back. 

Goro relaxed, his annoyance transparent in his expression. He hated Ren’s silent protagonist shtick. He could afford to speak up if he didn’t want to be decked outside Shibuya station and left for dead in a puddle of murky, city rainwater. 

And fuck those glasses.

He tried to meet Ren’s eyes, but he couldn’t see through the cloudy glare that lived permanently over the lenses. It would be one thing if he spoke up a little more, but it would be altogether something else if he could actually read his fucking expression once in a while. 

Since they’d ended up here, it’d been impossible 

“What?” he finally asked when Ren put down his hands after seemingly recovering from nearly being pummeled.

He watched as Ren put his hands in his jacket pockets, his head tilting down to seemingly stare at the ground but who knew? His glasses, abnormally enough, could not be seen through no matter the angle of approach or trick of the light. 

“Did you make your decision?” That’s all Goro really cared about at this point. He was either doing this with or without him. One was, arguably, better than the other, but both would be an equal number of stress headaches so there was that.

“I want to stay . . .”

“Then you won’t be seeing--”

“With you.”

“What?” Goro felt his mind short-circuit. He still couldn’t see Ren’s fucking eyes, so he had no reference for whether he was joking or delusional. 

“I want to stay with you,” Ren said again, this time with a tone far more finite, sure in a way that only delusional people were sure without doubt or hesitation. 

That was it then. Amamiya Ren was lost to this world, this dream, this palace of pleasures reality had stolen from each of them. 

Pathetic.

“That’s not what I asked, and you know it,” he snipped, voice still deep and threatening as he went on, “We don’t have time for games. Who knows what’s going on out there while we’re in here?” And for some inexplicable reason, he gestured upward, when referencing  _ out _ as though freedom was hidden somewhere in the rain clouds that threatened to burst at any moment. 

“I’m not playing any games,” was the answer Ren gave, which was not the one Goro wanted to hear. 

“Clarify, and quickly,” he crossed his arms only for his left hand to go to his chin as he studied the Phantom Theives’s leader. Further investigation certainly wasn’t pressing as he'd pretty much figured everything out at this point, but Goro’s patience was wearing thin, so at least giving the illusion of urgency would have to do. After the interrogation room, and certainly after the boiler room, his perfect image had become harder to maintain. The skills were there, of course, but the necessity had all but vanished. While he found himself using the same fake smiles, he no longer made the effort to match his tone. Perhaps, at this point, his role as the beloved detective prince simply played across his face out of mere habit. 

“Together. With you.”

Goro waited and watched silently as a small smile spread on Ren’s lips. This was far too bizarre. Perhaps, this was a shadow. Very possibly, this wasn’t Ren at all; he was a cognition, maybe. The possibility that Ren was elsewhere, imprisoned even, made more sense than the real one agreeing to a life of lies with the desire to have his  _ murderer _ at his side. 

That was it.

The glasses.

Without warning, Goro reached, just quick enough to grab at the black frames and rip them away from Ren’s face. Ren reacted, trying to simultaneously step back and grab at Goro’s left arm to stop him, but he wasn’t fast enough. Instead of keeping them, respectfully tucking them into his coat pocket or folding them onto his collar, Goro tossed the cursed frames aside. Glass cracked on impact with the cement sidewalk below, and Goro felt nothing but self-satisfaction from the sound.

Their eyes met for the first time since _then_. 

He’d expected them to black or red or yellow. 

Most likely yellow?

But, they weren’t any of those colors. 

Their eyes met, and Goro saw in his the same beautiful gray he’d grown to love with all of the hate he’d stored over the years. They’d, at one point, been his obsession. He’d wanted them on him constantly, scanning every muscle, every expression, every long silence between them until those gray eyes were just as hungry as Goro’s own. 

But, they’d never been. 

Those gray eyes had smiled at him. They’d cursed him. They’d burned a scar so black behind his eyelids that he’d thought himself blind in their presence. 

But now they were nothing. They were ordinary. They were the eyes of a very human, very flawed Amamiya Ren.

“I don’t know why you think I deserved that,” Ren said with a smile, his gray eyes light in humor as they practically glimmered with the hope of making Goro smile back.

He did not.

“I had reason to believe it wasn’t you,” Goro admitted plainly. He still felt skeptical but only time would tell.

“Why?” And those eyes, they blinked wider in wonder, as if he didn’t realize he’d since been out of character for what felt like weeks now. Who knew how much time had actually passed?

That question, ‘_Why?_’, triggered in Goro a stress headache unlike any other. He had no time to list the reasons. At this point, every moment was merely borrowed.

“Nevermind that. Answer me,” he nearly growled lowly, his desire to see once more the Amamiya Ren he thought he knew while being face-to-face with the pathetic impostor only making his headache worse, “Do you intend to stay here?”

Quite suddenly, Goro tensed as arms wrapped around him and curly black hair brushed his cheek. Ren rested his head on Goro’s shoulder and squeezed his arms tightly around Goro’s waist. In shock as he processed that Amamiya Ren was, in fact, embracing him, he made no move to respond to the two words Ren whispered into his ear.

“I do.” 


	2. Chapter 2

A week later, Goro arrived prepared and equipped with weapons to kill in the same spot outside the station. He replayed last week's events in his mind.

Amamiya Ren had  _ hugged _ him.

He'd pushed him away.

Perhaps threats had been exchanged, or maybe, merely given?

And then, he'd left.

Whatever game Ren was attempting to play with him, he wouldn't win. Goro would not be deterred; he was on the side of truth, after all, and that was absolute. He reviewed his argument, each of his assertions, and all of the illogical nonsense Ren would attempt to throw his way. He didn't understand the logic behind his own ridiculous hope that common sense would work with Ren this week, but he couldn't seem to give up hope.

A mere two months ago, Goro had been convinced he could handle anything metaverse related, but since everything had happened, he lacked confidence in that regard. Any strength or confidence he showed the others was merely that: show. The defense mechanisms came so naturally now that he no longer even recognized them for what they were. On top of his lacking ego in general, he had come to the conclusion that whatever he would have to face to reveal the truth to the others, it was of a power far beyond his.

In short, he needed Ren. Or, rather, he needed his power. 

Goro felt the gun at his side through his jacket and relaxed just as Amamiya Ren rounded the corner of the station with a blank expression right up until their eyes met.

He hadn't replaced the glasses.

Ren stopped right in front of him, tucked his hands into his coat pockets, and shrugged.

“Did you come alone?” Goro asked, shamelessly studying the flecks of charcoal in Ren's eyes. Now that these gray windows had been blown open, he couldn't help but stare inside in wonder. He only hoped his fascination didn't show on his face.

“Yes,” Ren smiled, clearly nervous as he played with his bangs.

Good.

He  _ should _ be nervous. It was Ren's fault they were in this mess at all. If he could just wake up and stop being so damn delusional, they could get something done. Really, what had happened between then and now? Of course, aside from Goro's betrayal and death . . . which shouldn't have affected him in the first place.

Unless . . .

Goro dismissed the thought.

“Did you change your mind?” he asked, noticing that Ren's right hand had traveled up to his bangs yet again.

“No.”

This was it then. Ren was putting himself in Goro's way, knowingly defying him, and all for a lie?

In one fluid motion, Goro withdrew his gun and pointed it directly at Ren's heart. The leader of the Phantom Thieves didn't even flinch, but his eyes had gone wide.

Goro was bluffing, but what did it matter? He’d already killed Amamiya Ren once, so he should have at least instilled the fear of a second time in the teen despite the fact that Amamiya Ren held the self-preservation of an ant. “That means you’re in my way,” he clarified for the teen as if the gun wasn’t clarification enough. 

And then, Ren's eyes poured into him, falling straight through him to see to his very insides. Lost in gray, Goro heard from somewhere nearby a sort of nonchalance only the cocky, arrogant leader of the Phantom Thieves could muster, “You haven’t been to Leblanc this week.”

“What of it?” Goro snapped, only realizing now how very annoying this whole situation was and how very much he didn't want to be in it.

“Come over," he said next, tacking on after a pause when Goro didn't respond immediately, "There’s something I want you to see.”

Feeling naked and hating Ren for it, Goro cocked the gun, never letting it fall so much as a millimeter as he spoke, “I don’t believe that would be wise. This quite obviously reeks of a trap.”

Still, even with the steady gun centimeters from his heart, cocked, and ready aimed by the man who'd already killed him once, Ren did not move. Instead, with guts only a man attempting suicide would have, he replied provocatively with a purse of his lips, “Right, I’d be this obvious with you, detective?”

And that expression there, with those gray eyes undressing his threats to mere pleas, undid him. The trap had been sprung months ago, and it was only now that Goro realized he was caught and starving on the tiny bait that'd been laid inside. He fumbled over his words, “Perhaps you accounted for-- no . . . fine," he lowered the gun and engaged the safety before tucking it away, his eyes never leaving Ren's, "but . . . so long as you are set to remain here, we are enemies.”

Ren shrugged again, his lips practically curling in satisfaction, “I’m glad you recognize that as a change.”

Cocky bastard.

Ren would not win; he would not have his way.

He would not.

Amamiya Ren had crossed a line that Goro would not, dared not follow, and it was up to him to pull him back.

They exchanged not a single word on the short train ride from Shibuya to Yongenjaya. And, on the walk from the station to Leblanc, neither of them shared so much as eye contact. Goro mentally reviewed their short conversation by the station and cursed himself for not having planned for the seemingly random thousandth scenario where Ren would just ignore his threats altogether to invite him over for coffee.

What the actual fuck?

And why had he agreed?

What was he doing now, following Ren around down the same alleyways that had seduced his heart months ago?

Time was running out, right?

They couldn't spend forever here, right?

Did Ren truly intend to sit by and do nothing? Nothing, despite knowing the truth?

Goro's chest felt heavy, and the pain only intensified as Ren opened the door to Leblanc for both of them and he recognized a voice he hadn't heard in years.

And there she was: his first kill. No, more importantly, he noted as he recognized the head of orange-red hair beside the black bob in the booth, she was her mother.

Wakaba Ishiki, Futaba Sakura’s mother, was alive.

“Mooom, don’t,” Futaba pulled some device aside and out of reach of her very alive dead mother, and all but whined, “Don’t help me!” After a beat, she went on, “You were gonna tell me a clue. C’mon. C’mon”

“You want to gamify this with hints but I can’t help you on your actual game?”

“Just tell me already!”

“Welcome back,” Sojiro smiled from behind the bar, which only served to render Akechi speechless. He’d never seen Master so happy; he was practically glowing and as weird as it was, the source of such radiance was quite obvious.

Ren nodded and, once he recovered, Akechi smiled prettily as he followed Ren to sit in the booth across from the woman he’d murdered years ago.

“This is my friend, Akechi,” he gestured to Goro.

“More like boyfriend.” Futaba said under her breath as she tapped at the screen of her device.

And, without missing a beat, Ren gestured back to the researcher, “And Futaba’s mom, Ishiki-san.”

“I didn’t know you were dating, Akechi,” the dead woman smiled at him.

Goro couldn’t process what kind of smile it was; he was still getting over the voice, the presence, the lie that recreated life right here in front of him.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Ren asked.

Goro, used to setting professional and personal boundaries, took it upon himself to answer, “We’re acquaintances and nothing more, but yes, we’ve met. And, if I may add, Amamiya and I are just as he described.”

“Lovers.” Futaba insisted, still not looking up from her device.

“No,” Goro corrected with a pretty smile.

The red-head looked up with a mischievous smirk, “You can’t even say the f-word can you?”

F-word? He had no trouble saying  _ fuck _ , but this was neither the time nor place.

“I’m hurt, Akechi,” Ren grinned, mirroring Futaba’s mischief, and when Goro turned to look in his direction and see expressive, transparent eyes instead of empty, white lenses, he felt his face warm. “We are friends, aren’t we?”

Of course. 

The f-word.

Exasperated, he kept his smile in place despite the oncoming stress headache, “Fine, yes, we are merely . . .  _ friends _ .”

“I admit I had my assumptions,” Ishiki responded as if analyzing a chart, “I only ever saw you around adults, Akechi. When you were, what, fifteen? Sixteen? You practically blended in with adults more than twice your age.”

What an uncomfortable conversation.

Was this Ren’s idea of a trap after all?

What did he expect to get out of making him feel, well, . . . awful? It had nothing to do with altering the past for him, of course, but he wasn’t a sociopath. He understood what Wakaba Ishiki’s presence meant for Futaba.

Still, this was more successful in giving him a headache than anything else.

What was Ren playing at?

“Ugh, enough about  _ him _ ,” Futaba turned to her dead mother, “You were saying, mom?” 

Surprise crossed Ishiki’s face. 

Had she even aged?

“You want me to discuss  _ that _ with these two gentlemen here?”

Futaba tapped furiously at the game she was playing for about three seconds before finally answering, “It’s not a big deal, and like, Ren is like a brother to me anyway,” she gestured in their direction and dramatically rolled her eyes, “After they get married, it won’t make a difference.”

Goro inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Thank god she didn’t say shit like this around the Thieves.

“What was it you were discussing?” Ren asked.

“My father,” Futaba said with a sigh, “Apparently mom was pretty racy back in the day.”

“Futaba, that is not the case,” her dead mother corrected her.

Futaba grinned, and Goro felt his heard sink inside his stomach, which, before now, he hadn’t thought possible.

He needed to leave.

Now.

He moved out of the booth and stood in one fluid motion, “We should leave you to it, then,” and he looked to Ren, “You wanted to show me something upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Ren nodded to play along.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Goro remained polite purely out of habit as Ren scooted out of the booth.

“Good to see you again, Akechi,” Ishiki smiled at him.

“You as well, Ishiki-san,” he lied.

As he followed Ren up the stairs, he heard Futaba call out, “If you make out, at least be quiet about it! We still count as customers!”

How the hell had he ended up here?


	3. Chapter 3

“Futaba seems to have our lives planned out for us.” Ren removed his jacket and tossed it onto the backside of the desk chair.

Goro followed suit and sat on the couch, crossing his legs to make himself comfortable. Were they finally going to have the conversation necessary? This was the last resort, was it not? Goro cleared his throat and began, “Is that what you wanted to show me? Ishiki-san?”

Instead of answering Goro’s question, Ren began to make his case, “Everyone has everything they want here. Even Sojiro. I saw . . . the two of them together last night.” Ren was standing, awkwardly searching the room with his eyes likely for a cat that was nowhere to be found. Goro could remember that he’d do that sometimes back then. He’d grab or pet Morgana during a time of particular tension just for the cat to whine and escape moments later. He must not have gotten used to the change then.

On the couch, Goro sighed, and dropped whatever filter he’d been using downstairs with the others, “Sure, everything except the  _ truth _ ,” he cut.

“Does it matter?” Ren asked under his breath as he played with his hair again.

Goro looked up at him from the couch, searching his face to see that he was serious. Lips in a line, eyes relaxed and staring elsewhere, Ren appeared to be serious, sure, but he clearly held reservations somewhere. Self-denial, most likely? Whatever it was, it was aggravating first. Disappointing second. Hurtful . . . somewhere down the list. He thought he knew Amamiya Ren, Joker, and what he stood for. Sure, he hadn’t always agreed with him on everything, but on this?

They should be on the same side.

“What does the experience matter if it’s not real?” Goro answered Ren’s question with his own.

Their eyes met, and a spark flared in ash gray eyes, “Does it matter if it’s real if you believe it’s real?”

That flash of beauty flickered only once before it died out leaving dark smoke clouding his eyes. Goro would have liked to see the flame last, see it burn holes inside him with a fearless, reckless intensity. But, this was not the Joker he knew. This was not the leader he’d grown to admire and hate in equal measure.

_ This _ was a coward.

“ . . . Frankly, I’m beyond disappointed with you. I thought you above that level of flawed thinking.”

Instead of angry, Ren sounded hurt as he turned away to sit on his bed, “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn because I’m right,” Goro replied without thought. What he said was true; Ren was just avoiding the inevitable, and he was pouting about it at that. Once again, pathetic.

“What’s your plan then?” the leader of the Phantom Theives challenged.

Goro had a vague sort of plan. Truth be told, he knew what he’d do without Ren’s help, but he was sure that, should they work together as partners . . . as  _ equals _ , even, then what they’d come up with together likely wouldn’t hold a candle to his own feeble, somewhat desperate, ideas. “Yoshizawa is the key,” he began.

On his bed, Ren leaned forward with his elbows on his knees like the weight of his worries was too heavy to carry sitting up straight, “Why do you say that?”

Would it kill Ren to think about it even for a moment? Hell, how had he not thought about it? She appeared at Shujin the day after the election and practically weaseled her way into everyone’s lives. Aside from the Thieves at all, the students at Shujin practically worshiped her. She was attractive and instantly popular; it’s like she didn’t even try.

And yet, she had no history, no personal ties, and frankly, no substance. She wasn’t like them, she wasn’t, and yet, here she was, somehow an outcast and already a Phantom Thief.

“She’s the only outlier,” Goro continued, deciding on what to include and what to leave out of his argument that could, at any moment, degenerate into a rant, “Think about it. Everything that’s changed thus far was tied to each of us in some way.”

“ . . . But she’s new. So what?” Ren appeared to have given him the benefit of a few seconds worth of doubt only to completely miss the mark.

Goro uncrossed his legs just to shift uncomfortably on the couch and recross them. His headache had already hit at this point, and now Amamiya was just attempting to frustrate him further. If Goro were being honest, he did take pleasure in ruffling the teen’s feathers, but now was not the time to indulge in Amamiya’s attractive features that were only heightened when he grew defiant; now was the time for them to actually  _ work together on the same goddamn page _ .“I  _ told  _ you to use your head, Amamiya,” he began to count the reasons off on his gloved, right hand, “She arrived the day after the election. She immediately became involved with you-- with all of us specifically. And now, she’s a Phantom Thief?”

Ren straightened his back to give another aggravatingly apathetic shrug, “To be fair, you could argue that everyone joining the Phantom Thieves was serendipitous.” He could have left it there, but instead, he had to smirk with a nod in his direction, “Except you, of course.”

Had Ren forgotten that he was still armed? Not once had he welcomed such blatant flirting, and that wasn’t about to start now.

Goro ignored it. “Her language then.” Ren, still mostly transparent without the aid of his glasses, gave him a look of skepticism Goro imprinted immediately on the back of his eyelids before he went on to explain, “She promotes nonsense about wishes and dreams and finding happiness. It’s all bullshit.”

Ren stared back at him and bit his bottom lip before asking, “Does it have to be?”

“She’s not right,” Goro dismissed him, moving to sit on the edge of the couch as he continued to gesticulate, “How can you not see it? Sense it? She’s a plant. She’s been put here by whatever was working against us in the first place.”

“What are you talking about?” Ren’s voice shifted, grew deeper somehow, and it rendered Goro unable to respond.

“I . . .” He peeled his eyes away to stare at the floor almost immediately. 

What was he talking about?

“You don’t even know,” Ren replied, looking, this time, far more critical than he had thus far in the conversation.

Goro went quiet, not daring to look up. He wasn’t scared by any means, but if he was going to say anything regarding his theories on what was going on, then he needed to be clear and concise. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he started rambling about his thoughts on their situation. He hadn’t been able to gather enough evidence about the world they now lived in because such knowledge would require a new perspective. He’d have to be on the outside looking in, and he wasn’t even sure where the door was-- only that Yoshizawa Kasumi was the key.

His silence must have been enough to convince Ren that he was right, because instead of waiting for further explanation, Ren moved on. His posture and tone had changed; it felt like seeing Joker in the real world without all of the get-up. He was confident, business-like, but cocky and defiant at the same time.

“So we confront Kasumi? What then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> conversation got long so I split it up OTL  
/also may not seem that way but I'm psyched for Kasumi-chan, and I think she's cute no matter what "side" she's on OTL


	4. Chapter 4

“My theory is that if we defeat her, this world will shatter to give way to the real one, and if it does not, then at least whatever put her here in the first place will be forced to face us.” He could have easily said  _ palace _ , but this felt as if it was on too massive of a scale. This world didn’t seem to operate like the metaverse exactly, and, on top of that, everyone seemed convinced it was real. Goro had not been affected in the same way. That is to say, he’d never experienced the fantasy as reality at all. 

He’d woken up in this place with the knowledge that it wasn’t real.

“And then what?” Ren prompted again, still unsatisfied with Goro’s so-called plan.

Goro took no offense to it; he was still reeling from the fact that Ren needed any convincing in the first place. “If we must face another force to escape, then we do. The point is that everyone here is living a lie.” He paused, and Ren looked away, his eyes travelling to some blank, unseen space in front of him. Goro stood up, new determination in him as he adjusted his gloves, “The truth must be exposed, and all of you must return to reality.”

“All of you, huh?” That appeared to have gotten Ren’s attention. He didn't stand, but he did turn to look at him, unshielded eyes tempting Goro to even attempt dodging this bullet.

And attempt it he did. “Must you argue semantics right now?” With a change of subject, Goro waved it off and stepped closer to him, “How can you be so complacent?”

Ren rose to the occasion, standing immediately to look Goro directly in the eyes, “Semantics? You’re leaving yourself out, aren’t you?”

Okay, so dodging wasn’t going to work.

Shit.

Perhaps he could use a bit of pathos? It was no secret that Amamiya Ren had a soft spot for Goro, or rather, held any sort of emotions towards him at all. Goro took a deep breath, lowered his gaze, and glazed his voice over with sweet honey, “. . . Ren.”

For less than a second, something oddly tender crossed Ren’s face, but before it could be processed, it was gone. Joker was back, and he was pissed in only the cold, methodical way the leader of the band of Theives could be pissed. “Oh, I’m Ren now?” His eyes turned to ice, “I’m only Ren when you want to gain something from me, huh?”

Wrong choice then. Goro internally panicked. He wasn’t sure, at this point, of what he could say to get Ren on his side much less get out of conversation regarding this particular topic.

“What do you remember before the election?” 

Goro felt a hand on his arm, and he looked Amamiya in the eyes in thinly-veiled surprise. The grip grew tighter when he didn’t answer, and Goro was simultaneously offended and impressed. 

“What are you asking?”

Joker stepped closer to him, unaffected, as always, by the difference in their height or age or social standing. His authority as leader seemed to take over suddenly and Goro hadn’t quite been prepared for it. “What is the last thing you remember before the election results?”

The detective jerked his arm free and took a step back, “This isn’t necessary.”

“Tell me. Be honest with me,” Ren managed to find a tone somewhere between  _ threat _ and  _ plea _ .

“What a double standard,” Goro sneered.

The insult gave rise to injury. An epiphany blossomed on Ren’s face in the form of wide eyes and pursed lips before he recovered enough to drop the mask and return to being Amamiya Ren, loyal friend and resident coward. “Please,” he breathed the word, his body slumping at Goro’s mercy. 

What a pathetic sight it was. 

Amamiya Ren was this desperate to know about . . . him?

Was that what this was really about?

“The boiler room,” Goro answered, crossing his arms for lack of something to do with his hands. 

“That’s what I thought,” Ren answered quietly, closing the distance between them once more with a single step. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Goro dismissed him, realising they were no longer making eye contact as they danced around the truth the same way they danced about the attic as Goro dodged Ren’s advances.

“If we leave, you won’t be there,” Ren caught him again, this time with both hands firmly planted on Goro’s shoulders.

It was uncomfortable to be touched like that, no matter the intent, so Goro batted the arms away again, stepping aside to continue the dance as he dismissed Ren’s very valid concern, “You can’t be serious. This isn’t an issue.”

“Why not?” Ren turned to him, following him, never letting him get more than arm’s length away from him.

“That doesn’t matter,” Goro repeated, avoiding eye contact still. The stress headache grew angrier as fear began to rear its ugly head. 

“Yes it does!” Ren snapped, grabbing Goro’s arm again.

It wasn’t exactly a yell, but aside from shouting orders to the other Thieves in the metaverse, Goro had never heard Amamiya Ren raise his voice.

It came as a shock. At first, Goro could only feel the tight grip in his arm as his stress headache pounded through his forehead.

Some kind of self-satisfaction rose up in Goro, bubbling to the surface as Amamiya stared him down, his face still a storm of contradictions as he attempted to look threatening while his desperation forced its way through. 

This beauty was all for him . . .

No, Goro couldn’t afford to think that way.

“You can’t spend the rest of your life in a lie!” Goro matched his volume. Only a few seconds had passed, but his response felt forced in the stiff air between them. He tried to jerk his hand away, but Ren’s grip only grew tighter.

“Why not?” he taunted, “You spent half of yours living one.” Ren’s voice was low, and as their eyes drilled holes into the others’, Ren’s grip weakened, and Goro took the opportunity to pull away.

“That was different, Ren,” Goro replied, eyes near dead from the attack.

The internal war that had been playing out on Ren’s face had been won. His expression fell, and his eyes went dim. “I won’t do it,” he nearly whispered, his words lacking any bite.

“Then this discussion is over,” Goro sighed and turned around to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> ready yourself for the typical unhappy things you expect from me  
I'm on brand. What can I say?


End file.
